Great (and not so great) bands reforming, either in the studio or in the live arena, is something of a trend at the moment. However, who would have thought that the original Alice Cooper band would not only be part of this trend but the creators of one of the best new albums to emerge from it – more than 50 years since their last long-player?

Paul Weller occupies a strange place in the cultural sphere. Especially since he was adopted as an elder statesman of Britpop in the mid 1990s, he’s been particularly beloved of a core audience whose tastes are extremely conservative. So much so, in fact, that middle-aged men who ape his classic mod haircuts are now a shorthand for meat-and-potatoes, Brexity, red-faced, pub-coke bloke-rock. Yet Weller himself is anything but conservative.

Guitarist Louis Campbell and fiddle player Owen Spafford started playing together as teenagers in the National Youth Folk Ensemble when Sam Sweeney (of Bellowhead and Leveret) was its director. They released their first album, You Golden, three years ago. It featured audacious musical extrapolations from Playford’s English Dance Master – also a key source for Sweeney’s Leveret – and with an emphasis on ensuring an abundance space, rather than notes, in the playing.

Wheels of Fire was Cream’s third album. Issued in the US in June 1968 and in the UK two months later, it was a double LP. One record was of live recordings, the other of studio material. Of the nine tracks on the latter, three were co-written by the band’s drummer Ginger Baker – who wrote the lyrics – and British jazz pianist/composer Mike Taylor.

There is a freshness about a show by Youssou N’Dour that never seems to lose its glow. He still has one of the great voices of Africa, a versatile and richly-textured tenor that doesn’t show the sign (at 65) of growing old and tired.

What a great album – and what a great story to lift the heart in these fetid times. A story that crosses oceans and decades and brings together a Canadian singer-songwriter for once worthy of the label “legend” and a bunch of Bob Harris Emerging Artist Award-winners with a clutch of well-received albums under their belt.

The best-selling single so far this year in the UK is Californian singer Alex Warren’s “Ordinary”. It stayed at the top of the charts longer than any song this decade. If you’re not familiar, imagine the lyrical mood and production of Hosier’s “Take Me to Church” filtered through the bombast of early Bastille, and supercharged with Warren’s Christian faith and love for “worship music”.

In the eternal now of the strobe-lit sweatbox, innovation functions in a different way to the rest of culture. Yes of course, the thrill of the new has consistently been a vital part of dancefloor culture, but so has the familiarity of particular sonic signatures that emerged from its fervid evolutionary processes. From the endless echo of classic disco house and rave samples in the mainstream, to the purity of raw, churning acid house in underground basements: once something works, it works.

As the name suggests, the Near Jazz Experience owe a huge musical debt to jazz, but that’s not the full story by any means. For a start, the rhythm section has more in common with the motorik groove of Can and the general atmosphere is closer to the soundtracks of ‘60s TV shows and films like The Avengers and Bullitt than any of Miles Davis’ famous ensembles.

Billie Eilish may be one of the biggest names in new music, but here at the O2 Arena, she’s just Billie – the one who stares deep into your soul, smiles at you like she knows your secrets, and shouts “I love you” like she means it. “You are seen, you are safe,” she tells us. We believe her. And judging by the thousands of utterly hysterical fans, heaving and shaking with sobs amidst their singing – mostly clad in jorts, sports vests and ties – the feeling is mutual.